The title is the summary of the week, with the exception of going to a bar called “The Coffin” and being sick for two-three days, but I didn’t know how to fit those into the title. The reason this entry is delayed is because of the fact that I have been sick. I have been in bed enough the past two days to have watched The Godfather Part III, American Pie, Robin Hood Prince of Thieves, and Return of the King (extended edition). Before falling to the powers of an evil virus, things were going quite well. Over the past week, the international students, who were only here a semester, have been celebrating their departure. Last Friday there was a large get-together at the local Irish Pub, which included 5euro tequila shots. I, being broke at that point, bought the shot, and then went home because I couldn’t afford to pay for the bathroom (30cents). I was home before midnight, but my bladder was happy.

Saturday, I spent the afternoon with Linzi, my Scottish friend who leaves today. We went to a movie and yet again to the Irish pub, where her Irish boyfriend is a bartender. I should mention: none of the bartenders seem to speak French. The Irish Pub is a little Irish island in Mons.

Sunday, I went to the gym. That’s all. Exciting, I know.

Monday, I went out for dinner with the girls, because it was Aphrodite’s (hm, I wonder where she is from) last night. It was a fabulous dinner of pizza and table wine. I love it. In Belgium, Italian restaurant, ran by Moroccans, and guaranteed, if you come to visit me, you will eat there. Oh yes.

Tuesday, I went to Brussels with Jean, an American colleague at the university. We started by going to a small, hole in the wall bar called “Le Cercueil,” or the coffin. To get in, you walk down a dark hallway and you enter a room only lit by candles, blacklights, and the light at the bar.  The tables are coffins with glass on top. There are coffin covers and funeral flower arrangements on the wall. Jean orders us beers. The bartender asks “normale ou crậne?” Jean answers, “crậne”. Next thing you know, we are receiving our beer in skull (crậne) shaped mugs. From there, we went to the Metropole, which is the oldest hotel in Brussels decorated in Art Nouveau. The waiters are dressed like your stereotypical French waiters. A slight change from the previous bar. At 8pm, we met Jean’s husband, Jean-Francois, at a restaurant called El Greco. At this restaurant, the waiters do Greek dances between the tables. Jean-Francois told the waiter that I was learning Greek. So in addition to asking me what I know in Greek and talking to me in Greek, the waiter decided that I was going to become Greek and dance. I was able to avoid this, until the end of dinner. After my baklava and dessert liqueur, the waiter grabbed my arm, and he taught me a simple Greek dance. So the waiter (60 year old Greek man) and I danced for the whole restaurant. I somehow was able to do it. I haven’t really figured out how, but I was. He baptized me as truly Greek and then it was time for us to leave and catch our train. I arrived back to Mons safely. An hour after I went to bed, all happiness faded as the fever came on, but I am recovering, thanks to the help of lots of movies and a very friendly pharmacist.